


In the gentle dark

by Moonfreckle (Sunfreckle)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality Spectrum, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Graysexual Fauntleroy, Let's have some sex-positive ace smut, Other, Smut, Smut Without Bias
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:42:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26127442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/pseuds/Moonfreckle
Summary: Claquesous tells hardly anyone where he lives. Even Babet has to wait on the doorstep. But Fauntleroy gets to be here, curled up with him in the same chair, watching the sun sink behind the ever stretching roofs of Paris.The last sunlight disappeared ages ago though, and they have found things to do that do not require a lot of light.
Relationships: Claquesous/Fauntleroy (Les Misérables)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. First night

**Author's Note:**

> This is the /softest/ type of smut. Only hand stuff, mouth stuff, a lot of kisses and a whole lot of consent. (And a little biting.)

Even after all this time, it still feels special, being at Sous’ place. It  _ is _ special, and Fauntleroy basks in the knowledge that it makes  _ them _ special. No one else is allowed in here. Claquesous tells hardly anyone where he lives. Even Babet has to wait on the doorstep. But they get to be here, curled up with him in the same chair, watching the sun sink behind the ever stretching roofs of Paris.

The last sunlight disappeared ages ago though, and they have found things to do that do not require a lot of light.

“Mmm, that’s four,” Sous mutters against the curve of their neck, carefully unhooking the knife guard from where they were wearing it on the inside of their jeans' waistband. “Have I won?”

He kisses down to their collarbone while he reaches out and places their knife on the pile with the others and Fauntleroy neglects to answer for a while. Finding hidden knives is a good game. They shiver as Sous’ hand returns to their hip. A very good game. The ones in their boots and on their thigh he found immediately.

Claquesous makes a low sound and shifts them on their lap. “Mm?” There is a grin in his voice as he pulls away just enough to speak clearly. “Have I disarmed my Bouquetière?” 

Fauntleroy smiles drunkenly into the twilight. His voice...

“Not yet,” they breathe, letting their hands slide down his back, feeling through the fabric of his shirt. “I still have one left.” They grope lower, feeling his sides and chest, even though they’ve checked there already. “And so do you…” 

Sous shifts underneath them, letting their hands roam as they please, but there is a certain suspiciousness about the way his own hands map their body in return. They bite their lip and try not to laugh. Their fingers count the loops on Sous’ belt and their stomach flutters as they feel his hands slide down the outside of their legs. He makes a soft, curious noise and then lifts his head to kiss them again.

His lips press to their skin, up to their neck, until they feel him halt at the thin silver chain. He pauses and lifts his head, reaching up to take their pendant between his fingers as his eyes find theirs.

“You better not mean this,” he warns, holding up the dangling little pocket knife.

Fauntleroy releases the giggle brewing in their chest. “It  _ is _ a knife.”

Amusement and disagreement spark beautifully in his eyes, even as he narrows them at them. Sous clicks his tongue and grabs the chain, gently pulling their face towards his with his fingers closed around the ornamental blade. “You are a  _ cheat _ , Bouquetière.”

They press their mouth against his, shifting against him eagerly until he deepens the kiss and lets go of the chain in favour of sliding a hand into their hair. If Claquesous is meaning to discourage their behaviour he is doing a  _ very _ bad job.

Fauntleroy grins against his lips and he kisses them harder, only pulling back to unhook the chain from behind their neck and place it among their weapons.

“There,” he growls and his right hand comes up to lightly stroke their throat, now without the impediment of jewelry. “I win. Cheat.”

“Who are you calling a cheat,” they purr, pulling him back in. “I can do a lot of damage with that knife.” 

“Mmmr,” Sous hums, trailing his lips down the line that the necklace had followed. “I believe you.”

“It’s small,” they murmur, eyes half closing at the light touch of his teeth. “Shallow cuts.” They dig their fingers into his shoulder. “A small thing can do a lot of damage.” 

Claquesous groans against their skin and his kiss grows rough enough to leave a mark. Fauntleroy keens encouragingly and they’re still keening when he lifts up his head again, his own lips bruised with his efforts. 

“You more than demonstrated that tonight-”

They smile at him. “Only because you were watching me.” 

Sous can kiss them so  _ thoroughly _ without getting rough. Fauntleroy turns and twists, managing to wrap their legs around him in what little space the arm chair allows them, and buries their hands in his hair. Their body is singing and their mind is addled with lovely things. The triumph of tonight, Sous’ admiring eyes, that growl in his voice, his hands, his lips…

Fauntleroy whines and Sous kisses them deeper in response. He holds them close, cupping the back of their neck and letting them press against him however they want.

They want… they want…

The words spill forth hastily, almost still muffled against his lips: “We could try tonight-"

Claquesous falters a short moment, breathing quietly before looking at them in the half-dark. “Are you sure?”

Fauntleroy hums, a little shakily, and leans their forehead against his. They have been waiting for a night like this ever since they decided they did want to try sometime. The way he just kissed them… He wants them so much. They want to feel how much he wants them. All of it. “I’m sure.”

Their face burns as soon as they breathe the words in the heated space between them, but saying them out loud doesn’t bring along any regret, only wild, frantic coils in their stomach.

Sous doesn't pull away, but they can almost hear him thinking. His hand shifts to stroke their hair. They  _ have _ talked about this, but… Maybe he needs to feel that they want him, too. 

Fauntleroy presses their palm against his chest, feeling his heartbeat for a moment before grabbing a fistful of the fabric of his shirt, and pressing their lips against his. 

He kisses them back and there is an edge to his kiss this time that makes their heart thump. It’s alright. They let go of his shirt and lean into him more. They trust him.

Claquesous does not change his pace, but when they release their grip on his shirt, he does reach out for theirs. At first there barely seems to be any intent behind the way he plucks on their collar and feels their chest through the fabric, but then he starts to slowly work his way down the portion of the buttons that is not yet open. The buttons are small and the stretchy fabric does not help, and Fauntleroy smiles into the kiss at the feeling of Sous’ talented fingers fumbling. He’s masking it with teasing strokes and touches, which is a great reward for wearing a deliberately difficult shirt, but it is also  _ endearing _ .

Their smile is wide enough for Sous to smile along and move out of the kiss to dip his head a little lower instead.

"Buttons, buttons…" he murmurs by their ear. His fingers play on their skin and his breath tickles their neck. "Why always the buttons? Even on  _ work _ days."

Fauntleroy rests their head against his shoulder, smiling as his fingers pluck lower and lower. "I like the way you deal with buttons."

Claquesous makes a soft groaning sound and they grin into his shoulder. Now he’s imagining them considering him taking their clothes  _ off _ while they decide what to wear for the day. They know he is. They can feel it in the way his hands speed up, pulling the last fabric free and letting their shirt drape loosely down from their shoulders. Fauntleroy sighs softly as he lovingly strokes their bare sides and suddenly they want nothing more than more of his skin against theirs. 

They tug on his T-shirt, pulling it halfway up and sliding forward on his lap, pressing their stomach to his. Claquesous makes a sound at the back of his throat and lets go of them to hastily pull his shirt up over his head and toss it aside. Fauntleroy purrs an approving sound in response, a giggle stirring in their chest. All that tender care undressing them and with himself it’s all hurry. Next time  _ they _ should--

"Come here." It’s not a demand, but his voice is heavy enough to press down on them with intoxicating conviction. 

They're already as close as they can get, but they lean in for a kiss and this time Sous' kiss is slow and heavy. Fauntleroy moans softly, following eagerly.  _ Want _ . It’s as if they can  _ taste _ it.

Sous is pulling more than just their lips into the rhythm of the kiss, he is moving underneath them and shifting them as well. He does not try to get them out of their position on top of him, does not even try to turn them around, but he places just a bit more space between their bodies. Fauntleroy feels cold air on their chest and stomach instead of warm skin pressed against it and they whine against his lips. A whine that stretches when Sous’ makes up for the distance by sliding his warm hands in the space between them. 

The feeling of him steadily making his way down their body, lower and lower and lower, is making something spark and stutter in Fauntleroy’s brain. They asked him to do things to them they do not know how to anticipate, and their mind and their body are beating out of sync for a moment. All they can think to do is kiss him harder. Kiss him harder and squeeze their eyes shut as his fingers tug teasingly on the loops of their jeans.

His hands slide up and down their thighs, lightly squeezing their hips until Fauntleroy is involuntarily squeezing back with their legs where they are wrapped around his waist. They murmur desperately into the kiss and Sous responds by sliding one hand to the inside of their thigh and the other down their stomach. He has done this before, but they still feel the nerves when he undoes the button of their jeans. As soon as he touches them though, through all those layers of fabric, they forget. Their hips twitch and Fauntleroy breaks out of the kiss, gulping slightly and blinking in the twilight. Claquesous' hand is nearly in their jeans, but not really, not yet. He's teasing instead of taking and Fauntleroy makes an effort to relax against him. Pleasant shivers are tugging on their body and they feel like if they could only give in to them, everything would be perfect...

Suddenly Sous' mouth is by their ear again, talking sweet and low. "More?" 

They feel his teeth nip at their neck and they swallow. "Yes," they manage.

Claquesous bites them, far,  _ far _ too softly, but when they whine and squeeze their legs, his fingers dip below the waistband of their underwear.

Fauntleroy gasps.  _ Surely _ it shouldn't feel that much stronger? What difference could a layer of cotton make? It doesn't feel like this when they try themself, not even  _ close _ . Sous presses soft, soothing kisses to their neck and keeps touching. They are hanging against him, they realise, breathing shudderingly into his hair while he coaxes their body into drunkenness. Foreplay, they think dizzily, that's what this is now. But Sous doesn't try to grab them, doesn't reach lower or tries to move them. He just keeps touching them, his teeth grazing the weak spots on their neck, until they are shaking against him.

"All good?" His voice is low and almost breathy. What is he losing his breath on? "You're very quiet, Bouquetière."

Fauntleroy parts their lips and lets out the keening whine blocking their throat. 

Claquesous laughs and to Fauntleroy it sounds like he keeps laughing. A warm, dark sound that wraps all around them and keeps them steady even when Sous moves underneath them to get to his feet. They cling to him, legs around his waist, arms around his neck, but he barely picks them up. He turns around, and settles them back into the arm chair, leaning over them.

They blink up at him, sitting with their legs spread and they back pressed against the warm cushion of the chair. Sous looks back at them, sighing slightly before stroking a stray curl out of their face.

"I like your pretty clothes," he praises darkly and Fauntleroy feels their stomach flutter as his knees nudge against theirs and his fingers brush their bottom lip. "But I  _ love _ that you let me dishevel them."

Their lips part slightly under the soft pad of his thumb, expecting another kiss, but Sous leans in towards their neck again. 

"You're gorgeous…"

The bite to their neck doesn't startle them, but it sends a shock through their body all the same. He bites again and they squirm blissfully, arching their back and twitching their hips. Sous lets them shift, but nudges their position so they are reclining in the chair, legs still spread.

They can hear him grin by the rhythm of his breathing and with another thrill of nerves they feel him reach down.

“Don’t we- don’t we need to go to the bed?” they pant weakly. 

Sous leans back a bit to look at them. "Are you comfortable?" 

"Yes…"

His voice is deep and warm. "Then we don’t." 

Fauntleroy swallows their uncertainty in a rush of hot, jittery feelings. They  _ are _ comfortable. They’re still mostly clothed, they don’t feel cold or exposed, despite how flustered they feel. Hidden as they are in the shadows of the wings on the chair, this feels almost secretive to them. Or not secretive, but private. No, they think as Sous leans over them again and brushes a kiss against their lips, secretive is right. They’re his secret. Hidden in his room, hidden in his chair, shielded by his body, with his hands sliding down their- Fauntleroy gasps softly against his lips as his hand slides into their underwear again. This time his movements are different, more deliberate. But again he’s touching them gently, so gently. A caressing sort of rhythm that is nothing like what they have come to think of as belonging to this. A gentle, coaxing rhythm that is slowly becoming taking control of their heart rate and breathing. And he keeps kissing them. Deeper and deeper, until they are starting to lose the distinction where one feeling ends and the other begins. This…this is only the best bits of what they ever imagined. 

The thumb of Sous’ left hand traces the corner of their mouth and his lips finally leave theirs, slowly kissing towards their ear as Fauntleroy takes in a shaking breath. 

“Still want more?” 

He’s so sweet to them. He won’t hurt them if they let him take what he wants.

“...yes-” they whisper and they release their involuntary grip on the arm rests of the chair, so he can put them where he wants them. But Claquesous doesn’t move them at all. He looks at them, with eyes as black and warm as the encroaching darkness, and sinks to his knees.

It’s a foreign, overwhelming sight. Claquesous kneeling at their feet. Fauntleroy’s breath catches in their throat when his lips kiss down their stomach, but they go quiet when he reaches out to hold them. He doesn’t pull or hold them down, he reaches around them, one hand gently touching their lower back while the other touches them again, with that same, careful gentleness. It’s...this isn’t what they were expecting at all. The nerves are starting to slowly unspool into threads of inviting, humming warmth. Fauntleroy exhales on a sigh and for a moment Sous’ dark eyes lift up to look at them. They stare at him with startled adoration and for a flashing second they get to see him smile before he bows his head again. The gentle movements of his head and shoulders as he touches them - and  _ watches _ himself touch them - are mesmerizing. Fauntleroy breathes, fingers itching to stroke his tied-up curls and that glorious warmth humming louder and louder in their limbs.

When Sous’ tongue slides in between his fingers Fauntleroy loses the presence of mind to watch any longer. Their vision swims and they can feel their feet slip on the floor. A shuddering breath twists in their chest and it feels like every lap of his tongue is taking an edge off their body. Their body or their entire being.

Slowly Fauntleroy blinks their dazed eyes open again. A few stray curls are dancing with every movement of Sous’ head. They whine softly, unable to truly speak, and Sous’ hums back at them, low and adoring.  _ Adoring _ .

“Ah-” It’s barely a sound but it sounds so loud in the quiet, darkening room. “A-ah-”

Sous hums again, a little darker this time and the next thing he does makes Fauntleroy keen. They try to brace their feet against the floor, without quite knowing why, but when they do their body  _ sings _ . “ _ Ah _ -”

Claquesous shifts a little, until his forearms press against their legs. Instinctively Fauntleroy presses back and this time they press a hand to their mouth to muffle the sound. They pant, breathing hotly through their fingers. Oh, oh the singing keeps going and Sous is still moving. His head bows lower and they see his hair slip down his shoulder.

Suddenly they feel his mouth. It is  _ overwhelmingly _ hot and wet and...and...

"S-sous--" 

Claquesous pulls away, the pressure lifting from their legs and his head raising up to meet their eyes. Fauntleroy's heart races, conflicted and confused and still very, very drunk. They gulp, their face burning with heat and their body feeling strangely upset with them.

Sous doesn’t though. He looks a little heated, but there is nothing but attentiveness in his eyes. "Too much?" 

They nod weakly. His lips are wet…

"Shall I stop?"

"Y-" They falter. Yes? No? "Not...not stop-stop." Their heart is calming down already, looking into Sous attentive face. He would stop, right now, no questions asked. 

…but they don't want him to. 

"I like it," they whisper. "But I'm…" They make a helpless sound. 

Claquesous’ expression relaxes a little. "Slower, then," he suggests. His hands move up, gently pressing warm against their sides. "Does slower sound good?" 

They nod again. “Yes…”

“Okay,” Sous whispers and he rocks forward, brushing a gentle kiss against their stomach. “Thank you-” He kisses them again, and again.

Soft flutters dance in their stomach and Faunteroy blinks. “What?” they murmur. The tension is draining from their shoulders, back to the unknown place it came from.

“For telling me.” Claquesous nudges against them, pressing kisses to their hip bones. His hands are gently stroking down again and Fauntleroy can almost imagine him gathering up all those little strands of warmth again. To tug on them gently. To pull them back in.

He tilts his head again and Faun lets their eyes close just a little. They feel his tongue, wet fingers… Their breath does not twist as wildly this time, it is not as startling. Sous keeps going, but he does not do what he did before. He moves softly and slowly, his head rising and falling like it’s swaying to a rhythm. 

Fauntleroy can feel the rhythm in their body. Slowly building like a gentle thrumming. A pulsing, in sync with their heartbeat, with their breathing, with their Sous.

The desire to touch him back is suddenly unbearable and they reach out, resting a trembling, hesitant hand on his head. Claquesous hums and Fauntleroy feels his mouth open a little wider, sending a warm feeling rolling up their spine. Without meaning to their fingers tangle more deeply into Claquesous’ hair and he repeats the motion he just made. Fauntleroy shivers under his touch and lifts the pressure of their hand. Sous’ head moves up and they feel him breathe for a moment, before the soft warmth of his gently lapping tongue returns.

Oh-

Fauntleroy breathes, feeling the cushions of the chair as they sink into them further. They lean their head back and watch Sous move between their spread legs through the shadow of their lashes. The touches of his fingers and his tongue are starting to blur together, both of them warm and soft… Very carefully they press down a little, grabbing into his hair. Claquesous lets them bring his head down and he puts his mouth on them.

Their legs tense, completely on their own accord, and Fauntleroy keeps their hand steady, despite the shaking in their chest. Sous keeps going, pressing back against their hand as he moves and making something hot snake up through their body.

This is for them… Fauntleroy bites their lip and blinks at the image of their hand buried in Sous’ hair. Sous, kneeling, bowing… For them, not to them- The hotness wraps around their ankles and Fauntleroy groans. Sous makes a noise in return and without knowing why they tug on his hair. He shivers and a sound escapes his throat that Fauntleroy can feel echoing straight through their core. They brace their feet and push.

Claquesous hands are suddenly just as present as his mouth and Fauntleroy feels a strange, flash of tension diffuse through their body. Their lips part in surprise, unable to hear what sounds spill out because of the brief, frantic rushing in their ears. All the feelings wrapped so tightly around their body snap-

Fauntleroy gasps. All their muscles give way and they melt into the softness of the chair, shuddering uncontrollably under Claquesous’ gentle touches to fix their clothes. At least they think that is what he’s doing. They are too warm and too dazed to be sure.

They take in another gulping breath and look down at him just when he looks up. They can just make out his expression in the dark. Fond and a little amused, and something they cannot read.

“W-” They swallow and try again. “Was that…?”

“I think so,” he hums. “But you’re in a better position to tell me.”

Fauntleroy presses a hand to one of their flushed cheeks. They feel like they’re glowing. “I am  _ not _ .”

Sous laughs softly and gets to his feet, a little unsteady.

Fauntleroy watches him do so, utterly unable to move. “...I don’t know,” they confess. They have never felt that before. Never quite like that. But it didn’t feel like people told them they would. But...none of this was like people told them it would be. “It was...new.”

He looks at them again with that unreadable edge to his expression and leans towards them, his hands resting heavily on the arm rests of the chair. “Doesn’t matter,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of their forehead. “As long as you liked it.” 

They peer up at him, tilting their head back until their eyes find his in the dark. “Yes.”

“Good.” His voice sounds so warm they are convinced they could hide in it and fall asleep. They are  _ drowsy _ . Except… “Is- is there something you want?”

The corner of Claquesous’ mouth quirks up and his hand brushes past their cheek. “Yeah. I’d like to take these jeans off and hide you in my bed.”

It must be the tiredness, Fauntleroy can feel their laugh wobble in their throat. “Hide from what?”

“Mm,” Sous hums thoughtfully, gently pulling them out of the chair and into his arms. “Everything.” He sounds happy, and he sounds like he means it.

So Fauntleroy wraps their arms around him and hides their smiling face against his neck. To get a head start on the hiding. And to make sure he holds them all the way to the bed. As if he'd ever let them go.


	2. Kissing nights

Not a lot has changed. For a while Fauntleroy feared it might, but it hasn’t. Not that they were worried about Sous suddenly making demands of them. Well, they suppose a faraway, anxious part of them _was_ still worried about that. But only irrationally. Sous wouldn’t be like that. What they were genuinely afraid of was him getting disappointed. Because what if he started _hoping_. They don’t want to disappoint him, even if he would never place that responsibility on them. 

So far, however, he does not seem disappointed. He asks sometimes, that is the only thing that has changed, really. Him pausing to ask whether they want more, where he used to presume that they didn’t. They are still not sure how they feel about that. 

They like him asking. But they don’t like having to tell him no.

Perhaps that’s why when Sous pulls them into his lap that evening after their call with Bizarro, they mumble after the third kiss: "Tonight is just a kissing night.” 

Claquesous pauses, his arms around their waist and his face close enough to theirs that he has to tilt his head back to meet their gaze. “Nothing ‘just’ about that, Bouquetière.” 

They laugh softly, more relieved than they’d care to admit. “You know what I mean,” they huff and they push against him a little, rocking sideways on his lap. 

Sous hums softly in reply and he nudges a kiss against the edge of their jaw. Fauntleroy smiles. He presses another to their cheek, and their temple, then their jaw again.

“Do I ask too often?” Claquesous’ voice is low and concerned and this time Fauntleroy is the one to pull away to be able to look at him.

“No!” they say earnestly. “No, Sous. You never even ask for things, you only ask what I want, you- you don’t do anything wrong.” 

He looks at them with a quiet, thoughtful expression and Fauntleroy gently puts their hand to his face.

“Really, Sous.”

He leans into their touch just a little. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to _warn_ me,” he finally says. “I don’t need- You don’t have to say anything.” 

Fauntleroy swallows. They love him. They love him so much. Without a word they slowly tilt their head forward until they can kiss him. Claquesous does not try to press back and they kiss him as gently and as earnestly as they can. “Okay,” they murmur and they kiss him again. 

This time Claquesous kisses back. He moves more slowly than he did before, lets them take the lead, but he’s there with them, steady and sure. Fauntleroy holds him, and kisses him with what feels like an unhinged gratitude in their chest.

When Sous looks them in the eye again, his dark eyes are a tad dazed. “I can stop asking.” He bows his head, half nuzzling against their neck and half resting on their shoulder. “If that is part of…” He lifts his head up again, almost frowning as he looks into their eyes. “Just, tell me what you want when you do want it. That’s all I need to know.” 

Fauntleroy presses their forehead against his, arms slowly wrapping around his neck. “I’ll try,” they murmur.

Claquesous shifts, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of their forehead. They let out the weak sound of emotion that has been brewing in their throat and tuck against his chest, face and expression safely hidden against his shirt. 

He pulls them a little closer still and one of his hands comes up to stroke their hair. “I love you, Bouquetière.”

They smile, against the well-worn fabric. He loves them. And how he loves them. “I love you too.” 

\---

It is still a sometimes thing. A rarely thing. These wants were always more curiosities than urges and Fauntleroy has found that being more acquainted with them has not made them want this _more_. It has only made them know better what they want when they do want something. Asking for what they want is another matter. But they’re working on it. 

This would be easier, Fauntleroy has concluded, if they always either wanted none of it or all of it. But it is absolutely not what is happening. Usually what they want is only a bit of it. Moreover, _inconveniently_ what they want is very often stuff that is attached to things they do not want.

Which is why they are currently mostly undressed, stroking Sous’ hair while he lies on top of them with his head resting against their chest. He likes it when they pull on his hair a bit, sometimes he almost makes the same noises he does when they push and pull while he’s going down on them. It’s not particularly the noises they want though - although the noises are very...very something - it’s the closeness. Probably their favourite thing of everything they have learned so far, is the blind, instinctual feeling of closeness. When there is nothing but warmth and sated feelings. No distance between them whatsoever.

This is not quite like that. But having Sous slowly getting drowsier and drowsier in their arms is its own kind of wonderful.

Fauntleroy lets their mind wander, combing their fingers through his hair. It’s getting very long again.

“Sous-”

“Mm?”

“I was thinking about how you do a lot of things for me, but not for yourself, when we’re...going further.”

Claquesous makes a short amused sound and Fauntleroy pulls a face at the ceiling. The term ‘have sex’ does not seem to cover everything they do and they feel weird using it. Sous must not be in a teasing mood though, because when he answers he sounds serious, despite the slightly languid edge to his voice.

“I told you, y’don’t have to do stuff back.” He lifts his head just a litte, resting his chin on their chest as he looks at them from behind a haze of stray curls. “I know you don’t mind,” he says earnestly. “But you don’t really want to. I only want you to do things you _want_.”

Warm, deep feelings bubble in their chest and Fauntleroy softly strokes his hair out of his face. “I know.” They remember the first time he told them that. He had told them to wait until their answer was ‘yes’ not ‘no longer no’. And that’s what they’ve been doing, but- “That doesn’t mean you can’t do things for yourself though.”

Claquesous looks at them, quiet. “For myself?”

Fauntleroy keeps stroking him, one hand in his hair, the other on his back. That is not only because they don’t want to stop, but also to give them at least something to distract themself with and hopefully keep themself from flustering themself out of their temporary confidence. “You could touch yourself instead of me some time,” they murmur. “If you wanted to- And I could… You like when I touch your hair during-- maybe I could do that then. Or kiss you. Or both.”

The idea of having the closeness without the body stuff on _their_ side is attractive. So is the image of Sous getting lost in their arms like they do in his. It won’t be the same, of course not. But if it’s something he wants, this is a yes for them. At least right now it is. the version in their head is.

Claquesous is still looking at them, still very quiet, and for a moment Fauntleroy worries. Then they see the change of colour in his cheeks. It is hard to see a blush on his complexion, but no matter how rare the occasion, they know what he looks like when he’s flustered.

“Mm,” he hums finally, and puts his head back down, hiding his face against their chest.

“Only if you want to…” Fauntleroy whispers. They stroke slowly through his hair and Sous shivers under their fingers.

“Mm.” Under their hand, resting in his neck, they can feel his heart beating just a little faster. “Why do you…?”

Fauntleroy is glad he’s not looking at them right now. “...I think it would be...nice. Being there with you. Even if I won’t participate.” They tangle their fingers into his hair. “I could participate a little, though…” 

Claquesous is quiet for a very long time. When he does answer, his voice is very muffled, his lips moving against their skin as he talks like a kiss. “I’ll think about it.”

They smile, as happy that he will think about it as they are glad that he does not try to say yes immediately to a suggestion that has clearly thrown him. “Okay,” they murmur warmly. They rest their hand on his head. “For now can I keep doing this.” 

Sous sighs and shifts his head under their hand, lettin them twist their fingers deep into his curls again. “You can keep doing _that_ for the rest of the night.”

Fauntleroy grins and tugs on his hair until he breathes out a muffled sound against their chest. “Don’t tempt me, cause I might.”

\---

Sous is quieter than they had expected. Much quieter. All they hear is his quickened breathing. That and the hammering of his heart.

Fauntleroy is tucked against his left side, one leg hooked around his and their face hidden in his neck, trying to find spots to kiss where they can feel the heat surging through him. Their left hand is buried in his hair, and it seems like every time they pull, the pressure in Sous’ body grows. He does not feel the way he does when he’s focussed on them, warm and attentive, this feels much more… Fauntleroy does not know what to call it. But there is something wild to it. His movements are not wild though, they feel almost restrained, and Fauntleroy imagines there might be something lulling to lying here in this half embrace, shaking against him, if it hadn’t been for the _energy_.

Because there might as well be energy crackling on Claquesous skin, that’s how tangible the tension in him feels. They can feel his legs straining underneath theirs and they tighten their grip. Fauntleroy makes an effort to tilt his head back on the pillow just a little, enough for them to be able to kiss his throat.

A shudder goes through Sous’ body and without thinking Fauntleroy chases it. They press against him and kiss him again, setting their teeth to his skin.

Claquesous makes a short, sudden sound and before Fauntleroy can determine whether it was positive or not, he turns his head with an abrupt enough movement to get their fingers twisted up in his hair. They see just a flash of large, dark eyes, and then his lips are pressed against theirs.

Fauntleroy kisses him back gleefully. They have wanted a kiss since he started. Tasting him in the beginning was not enough. They need to know what _this_ tastes like on his lips.

They dig their fingers into the back of his neck, tangled up in his curls, and pull him in with as much force as they dare to use. Sous kisses them hard enough to make them want to squirm and they kiss back as deeply as they possibly can at this angle. He does nothing to fight their grip, but they feel his left arm tightening around them. For a moment it feels almost like he's clinging to them and that is a new and _glorious_ feeling that makes Fauntleroy want to-- Sous's head jerks back and he breaks the kiss, gasping against their lips as his body shudders against theirs. They release their grip on his neck and hair, and he lets his head fall back onto the pillow with a spent sigh. 

Fauntleroy's head reels slightly. That was sudden. Almost _too_ sudden. For a moment there he held onto them like they were his only tether to existence. They _need_ to feel that again. But then Sous opens his half-closed eyes, and when he looks at them, they forget. 

Claquesous' eyes are almost black and Fauntleroy is certain that they have never seen him so completely unguarded. A blissful exhaustion is diffused all over his face and as he looks at them his expression shifts into something Fauntleroy doesn't think they have ever actually _seen_. They have felt that look. Every now and then, when their back is turned, but they have never been able to catch it. 

Sous exhales an uneven breath. "I love you-"

They want to answer him, they do, but their throat is blocked with the most unbearable softness, the most unselfish possessiveness they have ever felt. Fauntleroy looks back at him with glittering eyes and presses a kiss to his lips. 

Claquesous makes a weak sound at the back of his throat and when they pull away again he still has that gorgeous look on his face. With their palm pressed to their chest they can feel his heart slowing down already, but the daze in his eyes and the heaviness of his body stay. Fauntleroy basks in it, resting against him in such a way that they can keep looking, trying to drink in as much of it as they can while it lasts. Because Sous is already coming down a little, the dazed look fading from his eyes. To Fauntleroy's delight, however, the drowsiness stays. They nuzzle softly against his neck and something wonderfully like a genuine smile flickers on his face. He is still holding himself though and after what must be a while, but to Fauntleroy is far too short, he groans softly and shifts his weight.

"I should go to the bathroom." He sounds _so_ reluctant that they smile.

"Yes," they murmur. "And then you should come back and lie in this _exact_ spot."

Sous blows out an amused breath and a slow moment ticks by. Fauntleroy listens to the gentle rhythm of his heart, slowly feeling the drowsiness come over them as well. They would give anything to be able to fall asleep with him just like this.

"You're gonna have to move if I have to, Bouquetière," Sous sighs eventually.

"Mmf," they protest softly, but they carefully lift their weight off him all the same. They were only lying on him slightly, he could have easily moved out from under them, but of course he wouldn't. Fauntleroy pushes themself up on their elbows and watches Sous walk out of the room with uncharacteristically unsteady steps.

They wait, their head strangely fuzzy, empty from most thoughts apart from the want for him to come back. It's odd, they feel a lot of the same things they feel after Sous' treats _them_ when they ask. Except now it seems to all come from their head instead of their body. 

When he returns, Claquesous' appearance makes them blink. He has put on clean boxers, but he hasn't fixed his hair. He is still undressed and disheveled and Fauntleroy is eager to pull him back into bed again. They laugh at how heavily he lets himself fall down and hum appreciatively when he immediately gives them room to lie against him again. They tuck back up against his side and revel in the discovery that Sous, while a little more awake, is no less relaxed. They shift until they can reach up comfortably to play with his hair and he makes a low sound in response. Fauntleroy buries their nose in his neck and smiles. 

"You smell nice," they murmur. 

Sous snorts and gives them a squeeze with the hand that is resting on their hip. His hand is cool, freshly washed. "Like sex, you mean," he chuckles. 

Fauntleroy peers up at him curiously. "Is this also sex, for you?"

Claquesous' eyes are not fully open, but not yet closed. "Mm," he hums, "Like this? Yes."

"Like this how? They turn their head a bit so they can lie against him and look at him at the same time. 

Sous glances down in their direction. "With you." He sounds just a little embarrassed and Fauntleroy makes a point of rolling as far on top of him as is still comfortable and nuzzling against his neck again.

"I like that," they murmur. "Not to me or by me, but still with me."

They feel Claquesous shift to press a kiss into their hair. "Me too," his muffled voice mutters by their ear. 

Fuzzy, warm happiness bubbles through Fauntleroy's body and makes flutters in their stomach. Sous feels so soft right now. Warm and soft and molten into the mattress with his arms around them and his legs tangled up with theirs. They think of the way he looked at them and smile against the hollow of his shoulder. 

"This wasn't weird for you then?" To Fauntleroy's satisfaction the embarrassment has not returned, there is an edge of cautiousness to his slightly drowsy voice though.

They prop their chin up on their left hand to look at him better and Sous meets their eyes. His eyes are so dark… " I loved this," they say earnestly. "Really, I- I like how you are, and I like being with you."

Claquesous blinks at them, slowly and thoughtfully, like a cat, and reaches out languidly to stroke their hair. "Good."

This was a first for him too and that makes them oddly happy. His fingers scratch towards the back of their neck and instead of struggling against the temptation they put their head down immediately, sinking into his warmth. Everything feels warm. Warm and soft and made for just the two of them. 

"Would you want to do this again?" Fauntleroy murmurs. "Cause I would." 

"Mm?" Sous hums inquiringly from somewhere in the dark behind their closed eyes. His stroking fingers do not stop, but they do slow down a little. 

Fauntleroy is pleased to be hiding their face against his chest instead of having to look at him right now. "I think I'd be up for this more often than the other things." They feel their cheeks glow a little, which is just silly, lying on top of him in their underwear. "If you'd want to."

Claquesous' fingers comb through their hair. "I might-" 

He tugs softly on the curls at the nape of their neck and Fauntleroy purrs. "Will you tell me if you do?" they murmur comfortably, letting their fingertips press into him just a little. 

"I will ask you," he replies after a moment's silence and Fauntleroy is sure they can hear a smile in his voice. 

"Only one thing about this I dislike," Fauntleroy mumbles against Sous' skin. 

"Mm, what is that Bouquetière?" 

"Can't kiss you and lie here at the same time."

Claquesous laughs softly and the sound wraps around them in warm coils. Fauntleroy basks in the sound until a gentle hand tilts their head up a little. Drowsily they open their eyes. Claquesous is looking at them again, a lazy smile on his lips and his face suddenly very close to theirs. 

" _That_ ," he says, with all of him still so fond and sated that it feels like a glow, "sounds like something we can learn."


	3. One of those nights

Every now and again, usually when he's simultaneously annoyed and impressed, Montparnasse will accuse Sous of being supernatural. Particularly when Claquesous does something that Parnasse sees fit to classify as "his I am the night bullshit". Fauntleroy usually laughs at him for it, but right now, spread out on their bed with their head swimming and their skin tingling, they're inclined to agree. 

"How-" they breathe, but as hard as thinking clearly enough to speak was, actually forming the words proves even more difficult. 

"Hm?" Sous' voice comes from the dark, amused and full of enjoyment. "Have something to say, Bouquetière?" His lips leave their skin only long enough for those few words and as soon as they return to their former spot Fauntleroy shivers.

They blink hazily at nothing, their breath hitching slightly as his kisses brush every single weak spot between their throat and their collar bones.

"How are you-" They gulp. "How can you tell what you're _doing_?"

Claquesous laughs softly, his voice suddenly close by their ear, and Fauntleroy involuntarily digs their fingers into his back as the sound rolls over them.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he purrs. His mouth presses to their neck again and this time there is a hint of teeth. Sous grins audibly at the stutter in their breathing and his voice drawls a little lower still: "I can see you perfectly..."

Fauntleroy's eyes had fallen shut again, but they make an effort to open them. The darkness is not quite impenetrable. There is a hint of greyness in the direction of the window, to prove to them that they truly have opened their eyes. But they cannot see their hand as they lift it up from the mattress and they certainly cannot see Sous, teasingly moving against them as their legs try to tangle up with his. 

"You _can't-_ " they protest. "You can't see me-"

Their accusation is cut off in a gasp as Sous' left hand finds its way into their hair and keeps them steady while he kisses hard enough at the soft spot just below their ear to surely leave a mark. They can hear his own quickened breathing when he pulls away again and with a sigh he lets his hand slip out of their curls and traces his fingertips slowly down their bare chest. 

"Why ever would I need my _eyes_ to see you?"

Faun moans weakly, shuddering under his touch. For hands that have done such terrible things they are unbearably soft. Claquesous’ touches are light, but deliberate. Almost as if he’s studying them. Yes, Fauntleroy thinks, their mind swimming with dazed desires as his fingers slowly trail down their stomach. Studying. More than just exploring. _Reading_. 

They whimper when his hand reaches their waistband and immediately swirls up again. 

Claquesous makes an amused sound close by their ear and nips at their neck in a sharp, teasing way that only serves to make the gentleness of his other touches even more overwhelming. Once again his hand just grazes the fabric of their pants and Fauntleroy shivers. Tonight does _not_ feel like a kissing night. Tonight feels like more. 

They have to ask. Whatever they ask for he will give them, but they _do_ have to ask. Except their lips are too busy gasping as his fingers find their way back to their belly button. 

But, if he can see without looking, they can ask without speaking.

Fauntleroy gives in to the pulsing between their legs and bucks their hips up, towards Sous’ hand. It’s somewhere between an invitation and a plea and Claquesous does not need words to understand it. 

He lets out a deep, amused hum and obligingly his hand slips into their pyjama bottoms and straight between their legs, cupping them through their underwear. Fauntleroy’s hips buck again, completely beyond their control and they hear him grin in the dark. All of a sudden he’s squeezing and touching with far less casual movements and Fauntleroy feels their ability to swallow down the keening noises shuddering in their chest starting to slip away from them. They squirm in his grasp and he presses against them more tightly, keeping them in his embrace. They like that. They need more of that. More of him keeping them secure and steady. So it’s safe to let themself fall apart.

They’re aware of Sous’ voice, suddenly right by their ear as his lips press against their cheek. “Kiss me.”

Blindly they turn their face towards him and open their lips against his. For a second the kiss is sweet and slow, and then he kisses them hard and deep, stealing their breath as his hand slips gently into their underwear.

They let out a desperate little cry and Claquesous hums low and adoring in their ear. Without even needing to be asked he moves them both onto their side and hugs Fauntleroy closely against his chest, fitting them against the curve of his body as the next clever touch of his hand makes them gasp.

Every single part of them fits, fits so perfectly together, and for a moment it _is_ perfect. Sous’ lips are pressed to their shoulder and his clever fingers play them like an instrument. But the feelings are too much. Fauntleroy can hear their breath panting an echo in their ears and everything spins. He has them securely cradled against his chest, but he's behind them. And it’s so dark. They can’t see him. It's too much distance. Fauntleroy's eyes open and close uselessly and they press back against him harder.

"T-talk to me?" The first time they asked him that, it confused him, but by now he understands. They no longer need to explain.

Even so they feel him pause. Claquesous’ breath ghosts past their shoulder and the rhythm of his hand slows just a little.

Fauntleroy whimpers and Sous laughs softly.

Somehow the sound doesn’t seem to stop. It seeps into their skin and blends with the shivers between their legs, with the touch of his lips to the shell of their ear, until they are suddenly aware of words again.

“You know that fancy antique shop next to the jewelry boutique?”

Fauntleroy swallows, making an effort to answer with more than a moan. “Yeah..." 

His voice is warm and velvety, a perfect match to his touches. “One of your favourites, isn’t it?”

“Mhm-” They can’t decide what is more desorienting, to keep their eyes open or closed. Sous’ voice seems to be coming from too many directions at once. They’re not sure where the dark ends and he begins. 

“I think we should break in there sometime,” Sous mutters in their ear. 

“Why?” they pant and they genuinely don’t know. They want him to tell them, but they also don’t know. They can’t think.

“Big place,” he hums, holding them a little tighter still when they shudder under his hands. “Lots of dark corners. Plenty of places to play hide and seek…”

Fauntleroy hears a sigh escape their mouth and their eyes close. Yes. They can see the store, they can smell the dust and furniture wax, they can hear Sous close behind them...

His teasing kisses turn into a bite again and Fauntleroy makes a begging sound as his hand moves.

“Would you run?”

They swear they can still feel his teeth. How can he speak and kiss them at the same time?

He asks again, his tone of voice only just shy of demanding. “Would you?”

“Yes,” they breathe. In an impulse they reach behind them, grabbing into Sous’ hair to anchor themself further. 

He growls. “Good. I like chasing you.”

Fauntleroy swallows, squeezing their eyes shut. Sous’ fingers do something wicked and they pull involuntarily on his hair. He growls again and Fauntleroy feels a flash of heat crashing down on them. “S-sous-” they stutter.

He hums a sound of wordless adoration at them and a surprisingly cool hand caresses their face while the rest of his body pressed against theirs feels feverishly hot. They’re moving together now, in the same rhythm. Fauntleroy hardly knows how, but it feels flawless.

Claquesous is still talking and yes, this is what they wanted. His voice is filling the dark. All of it. All around them. 

“Would you let me catch you?” 

“Yes,” they whisper and the noise of gratification he makes settles deep in their stomach.

“Sweet little Bouquetière,” he chuckles. “...you want me to tell you what I’d do?”

It’s not an answer that passes their lips, only a shudder of breath paired with a tug on his hair. But he listens anyway.

“The moment I caught you…” he murmurs “I would trap you against one of those tall black cupboards-”

“Ebony,” they groan, their head swimming. Polished ebony… 

“Yes, one of those-” His grin is audible in his voice and it is almost tangible in the air. 

And oh the air feels thick. As thick as the darkness. Fauntleroy feels their mouth open and close, as if they’re trying to drink all of it down. 

“I'd trap you,” Claquesous whispers in their ear. “Press you right up against it and I would touch you just- like- this-”

They keen desperately, legs straining as he keeps his deliberate rhythm and Sous laughs, warm and dark and generous, and sinks his teeth into the curve of their shoulder. 

Fauntleroy gasps. "Harder," they beg. "Harder."

He bites down again. 

They let out a cry that makes Sous buck his hips against theirs and their head swims. Claquesous kisses the spot he just hurt, softly nipping left and right to daze them further and Fauntleroy can feel themself shake in his embrace. 

"Will- will you touch yourself?" they pant, struggling to speak while giving in to his touching.

"You first, Bouquetière," he breathes hotly against their neck.

"But will you?" They bite their lip to keep from whining. They want this, all of it, but they also want to feel him come apart against him. They want Sous as warm and exhausted in their arms as they will be. 

"Anything you want," Claquesous promises and they smile drunkenly into the softness of their pillow. His voice is almost rough with fondness. " _Anything-_ " 

Fauntleroy keens. Sous has one arm across their chest and one hand no longer playing, but deliberately pushing them towards the edge. They barely remember to breathe, let alone how to form any coherent thoughts. It's all Sous. All him and them and heat.

But it's not enough. Their body is humming and they want _more_. They want him moving over them again, they want his fingers trailing down their skin. They want his mouth.

They open their lips, but nothing but keening, panting breaths come out and Sous holds them tighter, the rhythm of his hand slowly keying up.

Fauntleroy gulps, fighting for enough control to ask. “S- ah!” They lose themself again, shuddering against him, but Sous heard them.

“More?” he growls softly.

They whine, trying to pull on his hair with an embarrassing lack of coördination.

Claquesous makes a dark, gleeful sound of amusement. “Oh? It’s one of those nights, is it?”

The movements of his hand are slowing down and Fauntleroy feels a spike of hunger lash through their body. “Yes- _please…_ ”

“Mmm, that was pretty.” His grin is so audible in his voice Fauntleroy knows he is baring his teeth and they swallow thickly around the keening stuck in their throat.

"Please what, though ?" he teases, slipping his hand out of their underwear and pulling it carefully back in place as if he does not mean to displace it again. "Please…what?"

They can't stand the loss of friction. Fauntleroy turns around in his arms, and grabs Sous as they let themself roll onto their back. They drag him on top of them by his hair and the back of his neck and Claquesous muffles the surprised gasp that left his throat by kissing them hard on their open mouth. They kiss back, struggling against him until they're both out of breath. Sous groans when they pull the hair tie out of his hair and grab into his freed curls and Fauntleroy feels giddy at the sounds of pleasure he makes when they pull harder. His lips leave theirs and they hear his breathing hitch in the dark before his kisses lower to their throat. They close their eyes, unable to stop either the smile or the sigh that spills from their lips as he keeps going, slowly kissing down their chest. He is moving over them again, his warmth and his weight grounding while his touches make their mind soar. He knows what they want and he’s no longer teasing.

He feels his way down, warm hands running smoothly from their sides to their hips to their legs and taking their clothing down with them. Fauntleroy’s hips lift off the mattress of their own accord and the rewarding squeeze of his fingers makes them twitch. They open their mouth but they can’t even manage a sound.

To remove their pants and underwear completely, Claquesous has to get off them. As soon as he has, they feel him kneel beside them, bowing low to press a kiss to their bare hip. 

His right hand plants into the mattress on the other side of them, they can feel the mattress compress as he leans in further, kissing closer and closer. 

A begging noise escapes with their next breath and Fauntleroy bites their lip. They can feel him leaning over them, they can feel him so _so_ close…

Wrapped in a single moment of searing anticipation they reach out a hand, searching for where his hand is pressing heavily into the mattress. Their fingertips brush his thumb and with a soft, gentle hum Sous slides his hand over theirs, entwining their fingers at the very moment he opens his mouth.

Everything goes quiet. All Fauntleroy hears is the soundless rushing of their own blood. But they feel _everything_.

The moment breaks and the silence goes with it. Suddenly there’s their heartbeat, keeping time to the singing of their nerves and there’s Sous. Sous’ laboured, muffled, _moaning_ breathing.

A whimper escapes their lips and they squeeze his hand where it keeps them steady. They can feel their body fraying at every edge, but he’s right there with them.

Claquesous moves, shifts, tilts his head and a wild, frantic pleasure makes a grab for their last shred of control. Their voice gives in, leaving their body to struggle alone. “S-sous- _fuck-_ ”

Wildly they reach out with their free hand, blindly grabbing until they hit a familiar shape. The bedside lamp sparks into life and Fauntleroy squeaks. They wanted to see, but now there is nothing but golden light blinding their eyes. Somewhere seemingly impossibly close Claquesous hums but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop and he’s...he’s…

They squeeze their eyes shut, bringing back the darkness again, and as the fingers he entwined with theirs pull their feelings back into focus their other hand finds its way into his curls. With their fingers tangled in his hair they can feel the rhythm of his movements in _his_ body as well as their own. As if there’s barely a separation left.

If they decided to open their eyes again they do not remember. But they see him.

Claquesous is kneeling, his hair a mane of wild curls as he puts his mouth on them, one hand reaching between their legs and the other tangled up with theirs in a promise never to let them go. He looks like a picture of utter devotion. And he’s theirs.

For a second the only parts of them that exist are wherever he is touching them or they are touching him. 

And then he is touching all of them at once, until they cry out, blissfully, to the sound of his adoring laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Azura for beta-ing <3


End file.
